Preparing the Way
by Fury Seven Kerrigan
Summary: As Malcolm goes through Starfleet Academy and gets his first posting, he begins to develop into the young man who later serves on Enterprise. But first, he has to learn about life, quite often the hard way.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer........ We all know it. There is also a reference in here to one of the Star Trek: Enterprise books- _What Price Honor?_ by Dave Stern- a story involving our favourite Armoury Officer.

This is carrying on a few years from "A Reed After All"- although it can be read on its own- showing the next stage of Malcolm's life and the development of his character, this time from his days in Starfleet. I'm beginning to look at this as a mini-series, so if people like this, I'll carry on with Malcolm's early days, right up to his life on _Enterprise_.

**Preparing the Way**

**Part One**

His own breath rasped terribly in his throat. He made a conscious effort to get it under control, lest anyone hear him and he should give his own position away.

He was crouched low behind a crate, clutching his rifle to his chest. It was very dim, dirty, and damp in the alleyway. A steady drip from overhead guttering tried to distract him as he listened for any sign of someone else being close by, but all he could hear was distant traffic, the pump of blood in his ears, a clang of metal and a yowl from a cat straight after.

The more he listened, the more his breath came under control and his heart rate slowed marginally. He had run to this spot from some distance to catch his target. He had been on this mission for over twenty hours now, his orders clear: Capture the target. Unfortunately, the target knew he was coming and was probably not only on the run, but preparing to attack, should he be cornered. As this was his first ever mission, Malcolm was determined to show his superiors that he was up to the job.

He took the opportunity to take a quick swig of water from his canteen, replaced it on his utility belt, checked his rifle once again and gradually looked out from behind the crate. The dampness had created a mist which pervaded through Malcolm's jacket and down his spine, though he was sure it was just the cold that made him shudder at that point. The alleyway led to a single doorway in a wall of thick corrugated iron for a factory, the only light coming from a dim and flickering yellow bulb at the top right corner of the door and it buzzed, he realised. He could smell the ionising smell as the bulb slowly died flickering in and out and finally gave up the ghost.

As he had been sitting in the shadows for some time now, it only took a few seconds for Malcolm's eyesight to return to its full night-vision awareness. He rubbed his knees to prevent them from cracking as he stood up.

Trying to avoid the puddles which would make him leave footprints, he gingerly made his way towards the darkened doorway, rifle at the ready. His right hand left the butt and reached towards the round doorknob. Unless there was a bolt on the other side, he knew it would open- the lock had been shot off through someone's previous encounter. That would probably explain the many dents at kicking and shoulder-level on the door too. His heart seemed to jump up to his throat as he grasped the doorknob waiting for someone to jump out at him, though he managed to persuade the little voice in his head that he was just being paranoid.

Despite its dilapidated appearance, the handle had the smooth quality of a frequently-used mechanism. Apart from the very slightest click, it turned and opened with ease. He listened and, hearing nothing, slipped inside, opening the door as little as possible. Keeping his back to the wall, he took a few steps along. The room was pitch black and smelt of damp and general mustiness, and it was deathly quiet- even the traffic sounds outside where blocked out now.

He couldn't decide whether to run the risk of turning on his torch- what would make him a target more- the light or the noise of him tripping over something? He decided to flash his torch around him, after all, he didn't want to do himself an injury tripping over- that wouldn't be at all convenient.

He felt for the left side of his utility belt and unclipped the torch. He pointed it at the floor, and flashed it on and then off straight away. Hearing nothing respond, he did it again for slightly longer. It appeared that he didn't need to worry about tripping. The room seemed to be filled with crates, all about 7 foot square, but the aisles between where clear. He reclipped the torch to his belt and stuck out his left hand and felt his way along the walls of crates. The silence spurred him on, and he made several turns through the crate maze before it occurred to him to realise how conveniently the crates had been set out- very deliberately it seemed to lead him in one direction. It made him also realise that his target would probably know this area and this factory well if he had chosen to be there, as Malcolm suspected he had, which made his heart start pounding properly and his breathing quickened.

He then realised further at about this point that it was getting ever so slightly lighter, and as he rounded another stack of crates, he saw several meters up there was a reinforced and wired window shedding an orangey street-light-sort of light from outside, and that the light from the window was shedding rays on to a dual staircase entrance, one set going up into an office, with several windows overlooking the rest of the factory-warehouse area that Malcolm had just wended his way through, and the other set going down underground.

He took the underground stairway, using the provided bannister as the shadows returned.

As he got to the bottom, he could see a flickering light from under the sliding doorway at the bottom. Getting to the door, he saw that it was slightly ajar and twitching about an inch back and forth as it tried to close but malfunctioned every time. Malcolm slung his rifle using the strap on to his back and used brute strength to push it open far enough for him to squeeze himself through, thanking his genes and his unforgiving training instructor that he was as thin as he was. As he got through, he saw that the control panel to the door had been battered- maybe with the butt of a rifle, and recently- so that it would malfunction.

Apart from the dimly flickering light, this room was far more high-tech than the rest of the building would suggest, although it was easily as large as the cavernous warehouse had been. Malcolm took half a minute to work out his surroundings. There were a dozen hiding places, and he was sure that his target was in this room .

He was standing on a balcony area overlooking what seemed to be a missile silo. The floor was an enhanced wire mesh so that he could just about see through it to the floor beneath, and the staircase down was mid-way along the balcony to his left. The balcony was about 10 meters long with another door at the end. The only other lights were small neon green icons on the control panels in the walls and a very soft pale blue light from monitors at workstations in the middle of the room. Every other surface area was a matte black. Malcolm was sure his pale skin was glowing in the dark in this light to such an extent that he stooped in the corner of the room and ran his hand along the floor to find some dust to block out some of the paleness. It was pristine, which made him suspicious immediately, but his job was to find the target, not to wonder why seeming missile silo in the middle of the city seemed so well-used.

He went to the door opposite the one he'd just walked through, but the red light on the touch pad next to the door suggested it was locked, but he tried it anyway. It was. Undeterred, he looked over the balcony railing to the floor below below trying to see for any sign of life, but there were machines, equipment, workstations, and several doors leading out of the room just to make things difficult for him. It was still quite dark, but the workstation lights and door-lock panels made it a bit easier.

He jumped suddenly and then stiffened so he wouldn't make unnecessary noise. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen a movement at the far left-hand side of the room. A silhouette had blocked out the light from one of the red door-panels just for a second as someone had gone passed. Malcolm reacted instantly, his training kicking in and the adrenaline pumping through him properly now as he sped down the stairs, still being careful to be quiet, but with a definite purpose driving him towards that area. As he got closer, he heard a scuff around the next missile launchpad which was too high for him to look over, so he hurried around it and peeked to where he had heard the noise -

"Drop it!" - a soft male voice ordered accompanied with a click by his right ear.

Malcolm tensed, but with a helpful rifle muzzle on the side of his head applying pressure, he lowered his rifle to the floor slowly and raised his hands to his head.

"Good," the voice said.

Instantly, all the overhead lights came on, and both Malcolm and his target who had caught him first after all, flinched and turned their faces away trying to save their eyesight. Malcolm still had his wits about him enough to dart out of the way of the rifle pointed at his head, whilst bending down to pick his up again when a loudspeaker came on.

"Cadets Reed and Logan exit through the final door on the left for debriefing. The way out is now unlocked for you."

Malcolm blinked heavily, eyes watering a little still trying to get used to the sudden light after several hours without any. He turned to his 'target' and saw Cory Logan, his fellow classmate and a year older than him. Cory, whose eyes were also tearing up grinned at Malcolm and slapped his back, which made Malcolm slightly lose his breath- Cory was at least six-foot-seven, built like an athlete, and a Scot to boot. "Nice one Mally-boy! I thought you got me proper then!"

Malcolm and Cory had been introduced when Malcolm had arrived at the cadet barracks three years earlier when he had been left there by his father. The young Malcolm tried to fit in with the other lads there, but they were all older than him and they all knew each other already and he was definitely the odd one out so he sat by himself in the Mess while the other lads were loudly chatting away not noticing the quiet boy until Malcolm had once dropped his tray- _then_ they all noticed and Cory had introduced himself in a big-brother type fashion. Since then, they had become the best of friends, entering Starfleet together, and with Cory drawing Malcolm out of the shell he had created for himself at his old home very slowly.

They made their way to the door, went through, and found themselves in a room with Sergeant Whitcombe waiting for them. He didn't waste either time or words, instead preferring to circle the young men whilst raising his voice to his characteristic level that had won him the title of "Hammer-It-Home-Whitcombe" by the cadets, or Sarge Hammer for short. The man was shorter than Cory, but he had the ability to make every cadet feel small in comparison.

"Cadet Reed, when you are sent to take down a target, you do not end up being taken out yourself. Normally because of your age compared with the other boys, I'd think twice before putting you in this sort of training exercise, but we both know you can do this. You have great potential. You've both been on this exercise now for nearly 24 hours and you need to have your wits about you when you end up in the field, even if you're tired and hungry. Even now, you are tired in this debriefing, but you will one day have to give a good debriefing when you are even more tired. You will have to be coherent and logical. Cool, calm, and efficient." Sergeant Whitcombe beat his fist into the palm of his other hand to accentuate each point. "In the field, there will be no excuse for tiredness when lives are at risk. I expect you to do better next time. Remember that you haven't long before you leave Starfleet Academy. But also remember this: You will need excellent recommendations from your instructors before you can get anywhere good- especially as you're younger than most."

He then turned to Cory.

"And you Cadet Logan- sloppy work. You have an excellent ability to become a ghost until you make one wrong move – and you always do! Mark my words, one day it'll get you killed unless you smarten up yourself. Get with you both- there's a shuttle outside to take you back to barracks. Have a hot meal, a shower, and get some sleep. You'll report for duties at lunchtime tomorrow. Dismissed."

The two exhausted lads saluted and turned to the outer door and left, both showing their exhaustion in their frames.

"Hell, what a grillin'." Cory said as he smiled at Malcolm. Malcolm turned his eyes towards Cory with a tired smile to mirror his friend's,

"You scared the living daylights out of me when you came up behind me! How did you know I was there?"

Cory opened the door of the waiting shuttle for him. "Easy- I knew I'd made a mistake with that door light as soon as I'd done it, so I knew dead-cert that you'd be after me once I'd done that, so I kept a closer eye, made that noise on purpose and got you that way. That and the fact that I'm just brilliant anyway!" He grinned again, his grin that always seemed to be stuck there in a permanent show of his good humour. Malcolm laughed as his friend got into the shuttle with him and they left for a well-deserved hot meal and rest.

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The next day, Malcolm and Cory were sitting in a bar overlooking San Francisco bay idly chatting. Malcolm felt refreshed after a wash, a hot meal, and a good long sleep before having a thorough debrief of the mission exercise that all Starfleet cadets went through at one point in their training. Both Malcolm and Cory now felt as though they'd earned a pint or two.

"Hell's Bells Mal, I thought we were in for it when Whitcombe was pointing out all the flaws in our Mission-Ex. It honestly sounded like he was going to boot us out."

Malcolm snorted and raised his pint in silent salute to Sarge Hammer. "Until he began on Cadets Jenkins and Lane- I thought Lane was about to cry when I saw him!"

"Were they after us then?" Cory idly asked while looking around at a particularly attractive young cadet who caught his eye as he spoke.

"Yes, right after." Malcolm paused, assessing his friend's attention and finding it lacking. "Then they decided to erupt in nuclear war whilst holding San Francisco to ransom until Admiral Black danced down the main streets in a carnival dress with a flamingo on his head."

Malcolm noticed that Cory seemed to take the actions of the excessively upright and proper admiral quite nonchalantly, so Malcolm gave him a dig in the ribs for good measure.

Cory's head whipped round. "Huh? Wha-?" He said, giving Malcolm a vaguely confused look.

"Malcolm just snorted. "If you like her so much, why don't you go talk to her?" He nodded his chin towards the same shapely female cadet who was now at the bar ordering a single drink.

Cory gave a mock-heartbroken expression of despair at the woman and returned his full attention to Malcolm once again. "Can't- she's definitely taken, and by a real slick of a guy- I saw them after class once. I'd hate the guy for grabbin' my potential woman first, but he's a real class-act, you just have to like him." He smiled mock-mournfully, and then settled himself with his pint. "At least my beer loves me."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, "I think the beer is starting to take an effect you know. We have classes tomorrow, maybe we should get a good night's sleep. We do graduate this year after all, and I do intend on graduating."

"Chillax Mally-boy- grab yourself a girl and make a night of it, studies will come and go, but you might never meet the same girl twice!" Cory gave him a grin and a slap on his shoulder to emphasize the point.

Malcolm sputtered, but not because of the stiff slap. "_Chillax_?? What on earth sort of word is _that_?? It's hardly the Queen's English."

"Well, we're not in Britain home-boy, and I heard a lovely piece of stuff use the word the other day." Cory leant forwards on the table towards Malcolm. "Seriously though, you do need to relax. In all my days of knowing you, I've not seen you with a woman ever, and that's just not normal. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy you know, and you really do just work, I'm sure you'll be brilliant, grief, I know that _now,_ but if you don't make some time for yourself and actually _have fun_-" he stressed those two words in particular by gently bringing the palm of his hand down on the table with each word- "then you're going to have a nervous breakdown one day. You're already getting well-drawn lines on your face, and you are younger than most people here."

"Gee thanks," Malcolm said, but as he had no annoyed or hurt expression on his face, Cory accepted that while his friend might not agree completely with everything he said, he was actually giving it some thought. He nodded to himself and settled back in his chair, leaving it at that.

"But you might be right- I'm knackered, and Sarge won't be happy if I fall asleep at the desk again. He might not think so, but that one time of his retribution was enough to teach me!" He gave his right hand a pitiful shake- the Sarge had 'gone old-school on his ass' as Cory had later on reported to Malcolm in their shared quarters, and rapped his knuckles with a wooden ruler.

Malcolm smiled at the memory and finished the pint he'd been steadily nursing whilst Cory had three empty glasses lined up in front of him while he downed the remains of his fourth and stood up slightly wonkily. "Farewell ladies," he announced to the bar. "The revered Cadet Logan must make his excuses for the night, but he shall return on the morrow!"

Malcolm's cheeks burned bright red as he ducked his head and made his way straight for the door, Cory following him, though they hadn't left the bar before Malcolm heard the retorts from the other patrons coming their way- "Gee too bad Logan hasn't the stamina, just I'm well I'm for you here darlin'..." and such like. Cory snorted and left with Malcolm before chuckling to himself in the relative peace of the walkway outside. "Come on Mal, let's hit the sack."

Malcolm smiled at his friend, "Couldn't agree more!"

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The final exams were coming up for the cadets, which Malcolm was secretly looking forward to. Only Cory knew that, but that was because he and Malcolm knew each other like brothers, not because Malcolm had told Cory. Malcolm knew that Cory was looking forward to the holidays after the exams- it was probably the last time off of this length that they would have until they retired- three solid months which they had been ordered to enjoy, should they pass. If they didn't pass their exams, they would have a chance to re-sit during the end of the summer, but in doing so, they could write off the chance of a relaxing summer. Even Cory had to admit that skiving and larking around now wasn't worth that, so he and Malcolm were usually found hard at work, either in their quarters, or in the world-class Starfleet Academy Library. But Cory also insisted that they both have at least an hour or two off a day where they did no work whatsoever, and that they had a day at the weekend off entirely. It was this plan where he found it very hard to convince Malcolm of the necessity, but he managed it in the end, though could still get his friend only to take one hour off a night away from work, rather than two.

It was a May Sunday the two were having off, where Cory was out playing rugby with his other giant friends, and Malcolm had taken the opportunity to make the most of the luxury of having one's room to himself and was relaxing on his bed reading a novel with the window open to let in the warm breeze. He was reading "The Master and Margarita", which Cory didn't think counted as having time off, but then Malcolm mused, Cory had never been a massively bookish type, certainly where Russian literature was concerned, but Malcolm was 'allowed' it, because he enjoyed it so much and it wasn't technically work. Malcolm in return had the grace to let Cory think it was his idea that Malcolm be 'allowed' to do anything- the arrangement had been an unspoken joke between them for a long while.

Heavy and quick footsteps down the corridor coming his way meant that Cory was probably about to burst in, Malcolm knew, and he was proven correct when Cory did indeed burst in, fling a bag on the bed and go to the bathroom for a shower. When he came back out again quarter of an hour later, he flopped on his bed, kicked the sports bag to the floor, and said nothing for a few seconds. Then he turned on his side to face Malcolm. "Got a date for you." he said.

Malcolm turned to him, not hearing correctly. "You what?"

"Got a date for you" Cory repeated, propping his head up with his left hand as his right reached for a half-eaten chocolate bar on the bedside table.

Malcolm calmly put a bookmark into his novel, put it down and sat up, swinging his legs around to the floor to face Cory. "You mean, a woman?"

Cory rolled his eyes. "No, a hamster. Of course a woman! Now don't panic, I'm stretching it a bit-"

"I'm glad to hear it!" Malcolm butted in.

"But not completely."Cory finished. "I finished rugger early- a couple of the lads have exams on Wednesday, and so I popped by that library to find a file on Cochrane to download to my PADD, just in case he comes up in the exams as I forgot to do it yesterday, and I saw this girl telling her friend she couldn't figure out the schematics for the early phase pistols. Goodness knows why she thinks she'll need that, but maybe she's doing it for her speciality subject like you did for your dissertation on the use of quantum physics in weaponry and all that malarky. Anyway, I butted in like I do and told her I had a friend who knew all about that sort of thing and that he'd meet up with her this week. Now, don't thank me too much, I'll get all big-headed." He turned on to his back, one hand behind his head, the other still fumbling with the chocolate bar, and looked very pleased with himself.

Malcolm on the other hand, just sat there dumbfounded. "You...... you.... you git!" He finally said. "What possessed you to do that?! Apart from anything else, I have exams to do, as you well know, I can't be swanning off with some girl because of one of your whims!" His leg started bouncing on the floor involuntarily and unnoticed as his hands scrunched up the bed cover next to him nervously.

Cory looked over at him showing no mercy. "Chill Malcolm, I've set you up perfectly- you go to her on Tuesday night- her name's Janie by the way, and she's in the year below us- in the library. You talk shop, which you know will be good revision for you anyway, have a bit of a chat, get to know each other a little, then if you like her, you can ask to see her again, if you don't take a shine to her, doesn't matter, you were only doing her a favour anyway by helping her out with her work that some git of a mate got you stuck with anyway. Win-win situation as far as I can tell." He had a smug grin on his face which infuriated Malcolm no end who got up and paced the floor. Finding the floor of their quarters not really big enough for that, he let out a long-suffering sigh and left to pace the Academy grounds.

Bloody Cory. Insufferable know-it-all git. Complete arse and sod of a friend. But the more Malcolm walked, the more he could see Cory's point of view. He was annoyed with him, and admitted to himself that he was terrified, and that being set up with a date, even- or especially- an unknowing date was embarrassing, doubly so if it ever got out, he'd be a laughing stock, and he would hardly be worthy of an officer if he was a laughing stock. He tried to imagine Sergeant Whitcombe in the same situation, and failed miserably, then he pictured his favourite tutor, retired-Admiral Hunter who, though very softly spoken and genteel, wouldn't have put up with anyone mocking him. Malcolm's thoughts then found their way towards his father. Admiral Reed as he thought of him when he did, rather than father. He wouldn't have accepted Cory as a suitable friend, always 'chasing skirt', as he would have put it, no matter how excellent he was at his studies, and Cory was good- he was in heavy demolitions combined with engineering, and no matter how you looked at it, being in such an intense job required an intense personality to concentrate on defusing bombs, and then to make sure that it didn't have an effect on you afterwards- that was why he had such a reputation for the 'work hard, play hard' motto that he had. To unwind and de-stress oneself after the intense job was the way that Cory found to make sure his blood pressure and stress levels didn't go through the roof and give him a heart attack one day. Malcolm knew this, but he also knew that his father would never have seen it that way. His father, Malcolm mused, would never have accepted being given a blind date set up by someone else, it wasn't the Reed way, and it just wasn't socially acceptable for a Reed to bring themselves down like that. Malcolm instantly had the urge to take Cory- and Janie- up on this offer. After all, if he and Janie didn't take a shine to each other, it was only a bit of a tutorial, no one need know that he'd been set up for it like a date, so no harm done.

He had stopped on the Golden Gate Bridge, ignored by all who passed him, but he was feeling much happier with himself and with Cory. He leaned over the railings to look at the water beneath and watch the pleasure boats sailing under. It was a warm evening setting in, and the sun made brilliant colours in the sky as he wandered back, pondering things that had nothing to do with exams and work, nor even Janie. He suddenly felt at peace with the world.

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On Tuesday night, Malcolm nervously stood in the library foyer, suddenly feeling about 14 years old again and undecided about whether he should go in or not. He'd never really spoken to a girl- woman- before in any capacity except as an acquaintance or colleague. He was excellent friends with the incorrigible Susanna in his Basic Engineering class, not friends as he was with Cory, but there wasn't a person who met her who didn't fall instantly under her spell- her roguish ways made even the tutors find it hard to discipline her whenever she pulled off one of her class-clown episodes. But this was different, Janie was different- he was going in to this already with an altered perspective of her, no thanks to Cory, and he was nervous because of his best friend's impulsive nature. He turned to leave, clutching the PADD and a couple of books he'd brought with him closer to him as he did, glancing at a portrait of the first Warp 2 vessel. He stopped. That picture had always been an inspiration to him- it reminded him of why he was there in the first place- to create for himself a new life, not following in the shadow of his family. He realised that was what Cory in his own way had been trying to get him to realise for years- that it was time to lead his own life, and to actually _live_ a life, not just go through the motions of living. He turned back around again and went through the automatic frosted glass doors of the library.

He went to the section of the library in the north-west corner, deep into the room where the engineering and weapons books and PADD download terminals were located. It was just after dinner, early evening, and so the library was still relatively free of students, at least in this section, and Malcolm saw only two people sitting at a desk. One brown-haired woman was thoroughly engrossed in a set of annotated blueprints in front of her. The other, an innocent-looking redhead complete with freckles all over her nose and cheeks had a couple of closed books in front of her and was looked up as she noticed Malcolm coming her way.

She stood up. "Malcolm Reed?" she asked.

Not entirely sure what to do, he held out his right hand whilst shifting his books into the crook of his left arm. "Yes, and you're Janie? I should apologise for my friend Cory's manners in setting up this meeting for us."

She smiled, and shook his hand and Malcolm found himself enthralled for a second, then blushing as he realised he was staring. He looked down at his books, released his hand from hers, which was still warm in his grip, and ducked his head towards the desk as he put his books down, hoping that she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. If she had, she didn't mention anything, and she sat in her chair, indicating the one to her left, which he pulled out and took.

He tried to relieve the dryness he felt in his throat by coughing slightly. "So what was it you were having problems with?" he said, mentally kicking himself for the huskiness his voice had suddenly taken. He cleared his throat again, very self-aware, and looked at Janie.

She smiled again, which made him feel all butterflyish, and she tapped on her PADD. "My dissertation is a working of the evolution of weaponry, specifically hand-held weapons since the Third World War, although I do have a section on ancient weapons like the crossbow to the musket, the Winchester to the Uzi, the grenade launcher to the remote-controlled aircraft. I've had some disagreements with a couple of my tutors about whether the remote-controlled Unmanned Aerial Vehicle- the UAV- should count as a handheld weapon, but I think that because of the differing opinions, it should be mentioned just for that reason if nothing else!"

While she'd given Malcolm the brief outline of her work, he found himself becoming fascinated, both in the woman and in her work. He felt an excitement at the idea of the challenge she had set herself and could see himself wanting to help her out. It would take some time, and no doubt many a study-meeting between the two of them he could tell, but it was a good little project, and he would need something to keep him entertained without any work to do over the summer- touch wood that he passed his finals.

He then realised that she had finished speaking and was looking at him with a little grin on her face, and he noticed that every part of her face seemed to sparkle with life. "Um, sorry, I _was_ paying attention," he mumbled, blushing again, and rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously which made her grin turn into a large smile. "I was thinking about this project of yours- Cory was right, it does sound like I would be able to help if you want it."

"Excellent!" She stuck out her hand again for him to shake, "It's a deal Malcolm: Study partner. You're going to wish you never started this, especially when I take over your summer!" She laughed, eliciting an annoyed "Shh!" from the brunette on the next desk whom Malcolm had seen when he entered the library. Janie smothered another laugh, making Malcolm smile a large smile- Janie was wrong, this was one summer he didn't think he was going to regret at all.

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It was dark and quite late when Malcolm returned from the library to his quarters. He found Cory lazing on his bed with a textbook and a PADD. When Cory heard the door open, he lowered his book, peering over the top and seeing it was Malcolm, raised his eyebrows. "Well? How'd it go?" he asked.

Malcolm's lips twitched, trying not to smile. He didn't want to give Cory any ideas that his crazy schemes might sometimes work, especially if it might give him the idea to pull a stunt like that with Malcolm again. "It wasn't bad. It is an interesting project, and so I'm going to spend a little time on it helping out."

Cory put down his book and sat up properly on his bed, leaning against the wall. "You sly old dog! Are you talking about her work or the girl herself being such an interesting project?!"

Malcolm looked at Cory, permitting his friend to see a small, grateful smile, then looked away and got ready for bed.

Cory, bless him, emitted only a satisfied "Hah!", and turned back to his book, smirking as he did. Malcolm had a feeling he would have to live with that smirk for a while.

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The final exams were tough on all the cadets, and many late night were spent in the unwise pursuit of cramming for the next days' exams. Malcolm and Cory though had diligently revised, had a good nights sleep before each of their exams, and felt good about how they had done. Malcolm had just come out of his last exam and was now standing in the glorious sunshine, breathing in the fresh air, relieved in his knowledge that he had no more exams to do. He enjoyed working and applying his brain, but even he had to admit that he could do with a break now, and the summer loomed welcome before him.

Cory and Malcolm were both staying in the San Francisco area over the summer, Malcolm having nowhere else to go, and he'd promised to help Janie with her work, and Cory stuck with him- extensibly to go into the wilds of California for a camping/trekking holiday, but mostly because he enjoyed Malcolm's company and intended on dragging Malcolm away for at least a couple of days on the trip.

Malcolm slowly strolled along the grass of the campus outside the exam halls where many students were now sunbathing or half-heartedly reading a book in the soporific sunshine. He had stopped under one of the many trees, closing his eyes and enjoying the coolness of the shade, hands loosely clasped behind his back, when he heard someone next to him. He opened his eyes and turned to see Admiral Hunter standing by him, and looking directly at him. Malcolm instantly and automatically stood to attention.

Admiral Hunter smiled, "At ease Malcolm, this is most certainly a day for relaxing. Something I think we are both in the middle of on this fine day." He gestured for Malcolm to accompany him as he strolled across the grounds. Malcolm, after a moment's hesitation, followed suit. Malcolm was silent, still partially enjoying the beauty and perfectness of the day, but also because of the superior officer walking next to him. This was part of the reason why Admiral Hunter was Malcolm's favourite tutor- the man was obviously very proper, but he treated everyone around him with a respect that made them instantly respect him back. His knowledge was second to none in the entire Academy, and he had a sense of humour, and genuinely helped the cadets to achieve their goals in life and to get them where he thought they would be not only the most useful, but also at their happiest and fulfilled.

As such, he was actually almost everyone's favourite tutor.

It was a couple of minutes before Admiral Hunter spoke again. "Malcolm, I think we both know that however you've done, you will have passed your exams. You've done so much work, there really isn't any thought in my mind that you could have done anything else." He breathed in the scent of the bright flowers nearby which Malcolm didn't even see, so intent on listening to the Admiral. "We've spoken before about what you want to do once you've graduated from here, and weapons and security really is your forte, so I've been looking around at an Ensign-level entry into Starfleet at Security Officers." At this, he stopped and turned to Malcolm, who had only raised his eyebrows, still listening intently. "You've had a lot of training in what most entry-level Starfleet Officers would normally be trained in on-the-job, and your dissertation has been noticed." Malcolm's mouth opened slightly, but no noise emerged. The Admiral noticed, but continued without saying anything. "Many vessels are looking for a good and able security officer, but the Warp 4 Starfleet ships might be more your cup of tea- they'll make you a far better rounded person in developing your professional career- there'll be nothing routine about it, and they will also serve as an excellent springboard when and if we ever get the Warp 5 project off to a start. How does that appeal to you?"

He finally finished and waited for Malcolm to respond.

Malcolm blinked a few times. He could feel his heart beating fast in excitement and a smile beginning to emerge. He tried to suppress it as it would seem improper to treat the Admiral with such a comradely show of emotion. Even so, he couldn't suppress it entirely. "I would be honoured Sir."

The Admiral's lips twitched themselves. "Excellent. I shall make the necessary recommendations. And while I'm on the subject, how do you think Cadet Logan would feel about the same opportunity? I haven't seen him yet, but his tutor feels that he is well up to the same standards as I view you."

Malcolm was about to reply when he realised what the Admiral had said at the end. Such a display of faith in him made him feel somewhat humbled in the eyes of this revered officer, and he instantly determined to make himself worthy in his career of his tutor's expectations, and generate some pride in him that he had been unable to do in his own parents. He then remembered that he had been asked a question.

"Cadet Logan would feel the same way I do too Sir. An excellent opportunity that we couldn't- and wouldn't- pass up Sir."

Admiral Hunter nodded his head sagely as if Malcolm was only confirming vocally something he had already decided upon, which Malcolm thought he probably was doing just that.

"I'm glad we had this talk Malcolm. You've been an excellent student." He held out his hand to shake, which after a moment, Malcolm took. "Have a relaxing summer vacation- you've earned it well. Come back refreshed and ready to serve and to explore. You'll receive your posting a week after your exam results at the end of August. Congratulations for finishing Malcolm- I'll see you at graduation."

He shook his hand firmly again, and then turned and left the way they had come, still ponderously strolling along.

Malcolm looked his way after he had left for some minutes afterwards, until a small group of students walked through his line of vision. He turned and left to find Cory who had finished his exams and was spending most of his days on the sports fields.

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Malcolm caught up with Cory just as he was leaving the sports grounds to get some dinner. He was obviously surprised when Malcolm told him about his encounter with Admiral Hunter. He stood there for a minute staring at Malcolm like he'd grown a second head.

"You're havin' me on," he said at last.

Malcolm shook his head. "I'm not. I got the impression that our tutors have been conspiring for some time about us both."

Cory threw his rugby ball at Malcolm who deftly caught it and began to tip it from one hand to the other as Cory picked up his sports bag and they wandered back to their room. "He _has _to be having a laugh Malcolm. I mean really- who puts a cadet on a Starfleet explorer-class vessel? I know it's happened before, but it's not as often as people think."

Malcolm smiled. "Maybe we're just that good." he said. "I can't believe I said that." He added.

Cory hefted his bag over his shoulder and clapped his friend on his shoulder. "Neither can I- I've obviously been a positive influence over you." He laughed, loudly, knowing without looking that Malcolm would be rolling his eyes.

"Come on," Cory said. "Let's ditch this stuff and celebrate, Ensign Reed-to-be!"

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The next morning, Malcolm rolled over in bed to switch off the alarm whose noise was eating it's way through his hungover brain. He slapped it off and rolled on to his front, covering his head with his pillow. He and Cory had joined up with several of their classmates at the 602 Club, and had celebrated in style their finishing of exams. They had subsequently gone to bed in the very wee hours of the morning, and at that moment, Malcolm wasn't even entirely sure how they had got back.

Even through the pillow he could hear Cory snoring, and despite the feeling that his skull was about to crack open, he knew he wasn't about to get anymore sleep, so he flung off the covers and rolled off his bed, regretting the movement. He crawled his way to the bathroom for a shower when he noticed he was also still wearing last night's clothes. Yes, a shower and a change of clothes followed by a full English breakfast was just the thing he needed.

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He was in the cantine, and it was blessedly quiet. He'd eaten well, and was now nursing a strong cup of coffee, gazing at nothing in particular. There was one other person in the room, apart from the catering staff, and Malcolm barely registered at the sound of the doors opening behind him until a body sat itself at his table opposite him. His eyes refocused to a smiling Janie.

"Morning," he groaned out, putting down his coffee and giving her a bleary smile back.

"Good night last night was it?" She asked.

"You could say that. Exams are over."

"You're down early, considering." She checked the clock on the wall which said 07:30am. "I saw you last night in the bar, and I wouldn't have thought you'd be down so early after what you were putting away!"

Malcolm ran his hand down his face. "Good grief, I didn't do anything untoward, did I?"

She held out a hand, palm down, to reassure him. "Oh no, but you were definitely having a good time with your friends!" She sat back again. "So, now you're officially free, are you still up for helping me this summer?"

"Of course," Malcolm nodded, stopping quickly when he realised that might seem too eager.

She looked to the cantine, tapping her fingers on the table. "Coffee any good this morning?"

"What?" Malcolm said, his alcohol-fazed brain not keeping up.

She shook her head, turning back. "Doesn't matter. So, I'll be going home next week until the next term starts, so if I can steal you until I disappear, I'd be very appreciative." She looked at him in a slightly different way, it seemed to Malcolm, with her eyes half closed, and it made him feel confused. His stomach gave a strange turn, and he didn't think it was alcohol related.

When he spoke again, his voice had a slight waver. "Of course, I'd be happy to. Name the date." _Grief, I sound like I'm going through puberty_, he thought as he rubbed the palms of his hand over his knees in unconscious nervousness.

"Lovely! Dinner on Thursday good for you?"

Malcolm balked at her. "Dinner?"

"Yes, dinner. It's what the last meal at night is called. It would be nice to talk phase pistol specs somewhere nicer and more comfortable than the library, don't you think?"

Malcolm shifted in his seat. "Uh, I guess so. Yes, Thursday is alright for me."

"Good! Come by my dorm at 6 o'clock We'll go to Coco's Pizzeria. You like pizza don't you?"

Malcolm blinked- she made decisions nearly as fast as he did in strategy classes. "Yes."

"Well, I need to be getting on- some of us still have classes."

She smiled at Malcolm, reached out, and swiped the last third of his coffee, downed it in one, got up and left, leaving a flabbergasted Malcolm still sitting, looking after her retreating form. It seemed to him that he'd done that a lot recently.

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"Malcolm, seriously, chill. And stop fussing. You look fine." Cory was lying back on his bed in their dorm room with a bottle of beer half drunk watching Malcolm as he got gradually more flustered about his up and coming dinner with Janie.

"Do you think I need to wear a tie?" Malcolm asked his room mate.

"Uh- no. That would be way too formal. Just chuck on some jeans, a black shirt and a jacket, then it's the perfect combo of smart-casual - good-looking, without being formal."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at his friend. "That almost sounded scarily like you've been checking me out. Have to admit, I'm disturbed."

"Malcolm! That's not what I meant, and you know it. Just offering you friendly advice that's all. But it's true you don't make enough of what you have. I had an old girlfriend who said 'if you've got it, flaunt it'- you're not bad looking. And before you go off on one, that's not me talkin', I just happen to have seen some looks from some of the lasses around here that you've been completely oblivious to over the years." He took a swig from the bottle as that piece of information wrote itself in surprise over Malcolm's features. It occurred to Cory that what women thought of Malcolm had probably never crossed his friend's mind before. "Just go and have a good time- it'll be fun!"

He saluted with his bottle at Malcolm and grinned before letting out a loud belch which made him grin even more.

"Grim," was all Malcolm said as he left to meet Janie.

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He shuffled his feet outside Janie's quarters as he waited for the door to be answered. It was opened by a black-haired French girl he'd seen with Janie around campus, her room-mate Solange.

"Yes? She asked in a smooth, though somewhat abrupt Parisian accent.

"Uh, is Janie ready please?" Malcolm asked, trying making a conscious effort to stop shuffling around and making his nervousness show.

"Yes." She said again and slammed the door in his face. He barely had time to register her brusqueness before the door opened again and Janie walked out, closing it more gently than her room-mate had just before.

"Hullo Malcolm!" She said, smiling. "Ready for dinner?"

"Yes indeed," he answered, glad that he didn't have to speak to Solange again.

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They wandered over to Coco's, and sat down, Malcolm with a mumbled "Thanks" to the waiter who'd shown them to their seats.

"Would you care for any drinks to start?" He asked them.

"A beer for me please, and a jug of water as well. Thanks." Janie said without thinking.

"And for you Sir?" the waiter asked.

"Um, just a Coke for me please," Malcolm said. He was nervous enough without having to think about showing any tipsy-like behaviour as well. He straightened his cutlery on the table, then put his hands in his lap, but they felt odd not doing anything, so he put his elbows on the table, and rested his arms on the table and leant forwards towards Janie.

She seemed oblivious to this, and completely at ease, it seemed to him. She was already picking out what she fancied on the menu.

"Mmm, believe me, the meatballs and tagliatelli in here are delicious, but then, so is the Americano pizza," she said, having noticed Malcolm's fidgety state, but deciding not to comment on it.

"I'll go for the Americano then, as you recommended it."

"Lovely, I'll have the meatballs, then we can try a bit of each other's."

The waiter came with the drinks and took their order and left, leaving the two of them quiet for a minute.

Malcolm decided to pluck up the courage to speak. "So, how did you get interested in weapons- enough to make them your main subject, anyway?"

She leaned forwards on her arms on the table, mirroring Malcolm's posture. "It's the mechanics, more than the weapons, and the finely detailed mechanics I like, hence why I didn't go for Engineering. I find it quite artistic to see the fine-tuning of all the little circuitry. My mother's an artist, so that's probably where I get it from. My brother works in a Garage as a mechanic, so that's why the melding of the two I guess."

Malcolm noticed that she didn't mention her father, but he didn't want to pry. She supplied the information for him anyway. "Dad's not around anymore. Haven't seen him since I was 5. How about you? And weapons, I mean," signifying the end to the conversation regarding her father.

Malcolm considered his reply.

"I was always good at the physics side of things, specialising in particle physics and weapons later on." He paused. "I almost went to the Royal Navy as it's something of a family tradition, but it wasn't really for me." He didn't really want to elaborate for her, not over dinner anyway- it would only bring the mood down, and their food was coming through now.

The waiter set their meals down, and they carried on talking, but now it was only about Janie's project.

After dinner, he walked her back to her dormitory, both of them trying to stifle a giggle over a story Janie was telling Malcolm about her time in first year of the Academy- it was late enough for someone to poke their head out of their bedroom door and 'shhh!' them as they went past, which only made their giggles harder to quiet.

In a loud whisper, Janie ended with, "- and then she sat in it!" at which point, Malcolm had to cover his mouth to stop a loud laugh escaping.

They got to her room, and they stopped, facing each other. Malcolm still had a large grin on his face from the punchline of her anecdote, "I had a really good time tonight Janie, thank you."

She smiled back at him, "Ah, you only wanted me because I enjoy talking particle distributors."

"And you only wanted me for my obscene weapons knowledge," he replied, both smiling at their jokes. It occurred to Malcolm that if Cory could see them joking about physics and weapons, he'd roll his eyes in despair and ask them when they'd be getting married, as they were clearly meant for each other. Strangely, that last thought didn't worry Malcolm as much as he thought it would, but he put it aside.

"So I'm off home in the morning Malcolm, but I hope you'll keep in contact over the summer?" Janie said, less as a question, and more as a statement of what he **would** be doing.

"Of course I will- I did promise to help you with your work after all. Quite apart from anything else," he added.

She hesitated, fingers over the numerical pad on the wall, not quite ready to type the code to get into her dorm just yet, but not seeming to want to say any more. Malcolm wondered if he had forgotten something- he had already given her the PADD with lots of notes on it he'd thought she'd find useful over the summer, along with his comm frequencies and address details-

His thoughts were cut off when she suddenly leant over and kissed him. His first reaction was to raise his eyebrows and take a sharp intake of breath- he hadn't seen that one coming, but then he responded to her, his fingers coming up to softly trail the curve of her face.

She pulled away after a few seconds, smiled shyly at him, and opened the door. "Goodnight Malcolm. Write me," and went inside.

Malcolm stood outside her door even as it closed behind her, relishing the butterflies in his stomach, and smiled even wider than he was already, then turned to go back to his own dorm.

This was a fan-_tas_-tic evening!

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The summer really had been good for them. It had been the first proper break off work that Malcolm could ever really remember happening. He and Cory had gone for their camp and trek in California around the Sierra Nevada region, near the river San Joaquin. It had been two weeks of very rural bliss and entertainment for them, especially when Cory had thought it would be easier to hire some horses to head out for a while, like the old cowboys used to do. Malcolm was somewhat unsure, as he hadn't ridden since his days of Polo when he still schooled in England, but his muscles soon remembered the routine. Cory on the other hand, hadn't done so well, but he managed to get a passable trot after some tutelage from Malcolm. That wasn't before Malcolm had taken a couple of photos of Cory having some 'disputes' with his horse though.

He had also written to Janie at least twice a week all summer- just to help her with her project, he had reassured himself, but even he had to admit, despite Cory's teasing, that their correspondence was more than that of project-buddies, or even just friends. In her letters to him, she made it clear that she liked him more than just as a fellow student, and was interested. In return, he had never found it hard to write to her, his letters weren't overly formal, or tutoring, or anything like that, but he had found it difficult to express himself to her. He liked her- a lot, but he had no idea how to go about doing anything about it. He hoped that when she came back to the Academy, that he would find some kind of inspiration when he actually saw her again, rather than he did in writing.

But yes, it had been a very good summer, he reflected.

Today, he and Cory had today just graduated from Starfleet Academy, both boys being mothered over by Mrs. Logan who had become Malcolm's surrogate mother during his friendship with Cory- he had often been at their family home, becoming more like an extra son to them than a friend of Cory's, and Malcolm loved them for it. The pride that they had in both of them filled him with such happiness, especially at that moment when Mr. Logan was doing his best to arrange the boys so that a photograph would come out well, with the Academy in the background and no one else in the background. Considering how busy it was, he wasn't having much luck.

They were just about to leave, having been staying in San Francisco all week, and they needed to catch their shuttle home, although at the present moment, it looked like they'd have to run for their ride.

"Just _take_ the photo Patrick!" Cory's mum was saying, "the boys have their celebrations to be getting on with!"

"All right Margaret, but if you would just move to the left there Cory, aye, that's it..... there! I'll get some copies for everyone, including the two of you, don't worry," he said to Malcolm and Cory. "Anyway, it's time we were off Margaret, we have to get the shuttle back to New York before we can get home again- I hate these connecting flights, but your mother insisted- said it was cheaper that way..." Cory and Malcolm gave each other a look- Patrick Logan could ramble on for hours if one were prepared to listen to him.

Margaret gave both the boys a bear-hug and a very motherly kiss, and picked up her holdall which she and her husband had brought with them for their week's stay while the boys were graduating. Patrick shook both their hands, and brought out a bottle of whisky for each. "Don't drink it all at once- I did that when I graduated from Edinburgh, and I regretted it afterwards, let me tell you! But well done. Hope you get good assignments- tell us all about it when you do!"

"Come _on_ Patrick- we'll miss the shuttle!" Margaret said, beckoning him over. "Ta ta boys! Speak to you soon!"

"Bye! And thanks for everything!" Cory yelled back at their retreating forms, Malcolm waving beside him.

He turned back to Malcolm. "How about we disregard some parental advice and enjoy these tonight?" Cory said, gesturing to their bottles.

Malcolm only grinned and led the way home. Assignments wouldn't be coming in until after all of the graduations were done in a few days, and that was plenty enough time to recover.

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"Hullo there stranger," Janie said as she wandered over to Malcolm, who was sitting on a park bench overlooking the bay as it was a glorious Indian summer's evening.

He had his elbows on his knees as he leant forwards watching the ships on the water, but looked to his left at the sound of her voice. "Hullo yourself," he smiled. "Did you have a good summer?"

She came round to his right side and sat down next to him and gave him a playful little dig in the ribs as she did. "You know I did- I only heard from you a couple of days ago after all. And I know you did. How drunk did you and Cory get the other night on that whisky?"

His lips quirked at the memory of exactly how slaughtered the two of them had become in their graduation celebrations only a couple of days ago- the bottles of whisky had turned into a full-blown night out with the lads which had ended with the two of them and their friends waking up in James McIntyre's grandmother's house in San Francisco- which Malcolm would be ever grateful that James' grandmother was at that point visiting his aunt in Carolina somewhere.

"Enough to not drink again for a while," he said eventually.

She laughed, and moved a little closer to him, nudging him gently with her shoulder as she did. He liked it. "Well I've nearly finished the research for my dissertation, thanks to you, so now I guess I have the next few months to write the thing. I guess you get your assignment soon- do you have any idea where you'll be posted?"

Malcolm nodded, "I think so- I think that both Cory and I are going to be based on a starship, under the recommendation of Admiral Hunter. I don't know how long we'll be away for, but I would rather hope that we could keep in contact while I'm gone."

Janie looked away, our over the bay, "I hope we could have more than just 'contact', Malcolm. A lot more."

He looked directly at her then. "You mean, a – a couple- don't you?"

She looked back at him. "Well why not, I know you like me, and I want it too, so how about it? Fancy being my boyfriend?" she gave him another playful nudge. "Go on, you know you want to," she smiled.

Malcolm felt a bit confused, "But it would hardly be fair on you- I won't be around, and neither of us know how long I'll be gone for. Why would you want to tie yourself down to someone who won't be here?"

Janie rolled her eyes, imperceptibly. "Because I like you Malcolm, a lot, and I don't care about you being away- it will only be for months anyway, no cadet has been away for a year on their very first mission." When he still didn't look convinced, she shifted so that she was facing him directly. "Look, we've been on dates, haven't we, and we like each other. We have the same sorts of tastes intellectually, and we get on like a house on fire. Why not become an item? It's long like I'm proposing to you!"

That last statement made Malcolm smile and stalled any other argument he might have made. "Janie Moss, my girlfriend. Sounds good," he admitted out loud.

She put her arm through his, and leaned her head against his shoulder as they both looked out over the view. "Yes it does, Mr. Reed." She paused. "Make it official," she demanded.

He took a second to figure out what she meant, then looked down at her leaning against him, raised his hand and tilted her face towards him, then leant down and kissed her.

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Malcolm and Cory were sitting in their room, Cory on the phone, and Malcolm with a PADD. They had been packing all day- now they had graduated, they weren't going to be staying in cadet quarters any longer. Malcolm didn't have much to pack- he still had very Spartan tastes as a habit from when he lived with his parents. Cory, on the other hand, was having issues getting everything tidied and packed. At that moment, Cory was talking to his parents, whilst Malcolm tried to put into words a letter to his parents to tell them that he'd graduated and got his first assignment. He and Cory had both been put on a Starfleet vessel, with thanks from Admiral Hunter- the CV-220: _Icharus_, a Warp 4 training vessel with a mixture of both serving Starfleet personnel and recently graduated cadets, which is where they would be living in two days' time. Ensigns Reed and Logan, as they were now, were going to be placed as junior personnel in the Armoury and Engineering departments, respectively.

Cory was having a very loud and animated conversation with both of his parents at the same time to the extent that Malcolm could hear what was being said on both ends. Margaret and Patrick were obviously very excited about their placement- it was quite the opportunity they were both being given, and he was excited himself, even though as he looked down at his PADD at the letter he had written, it seemed as though he was telling his own parents about watching paint dry, it had that much emotion in it.

Cory beckoned him over to the phone, "Here's Malcolm too- he's on the _Icharus_ too- he'll tell you all about it," and thrust the phone at Malcolm giving him a relieved expression whilst also doing a comical impression of his ears falling off.

Malcolm tried not to laugh as he had both voices suddenly erupt in his ear, Patrick giving his a lot of sage advice about what not to do in space travel, despite having never been himself, and Margaret telling him to wrap up warm-

"Space is very cold you know Malcolm," she was saying. "I'll be knitting both of you a jumper and a scarf- it'll keep you nice and warm on that ship. I'll do you a nice blue one dear."

"Thank you, but the ship has it's own temperature setting in the life-support system," Malcolm began, although wasn't heard.

"Now then my boy," Patrick was saying, "if you get to walk on any planets, don't go up to any old stranger and say hullo- human or alien, you just don't know what sort of person you'll end up talking to. Why, only the other I was telling Margaret- do you remember dear?-" he spoke to his wife for a second, "why, I was telling her that I don't know what the world is coming to-"

"Ooooh yes, he's absolutely right dear," Margaret began.

Malcolm looked over at Cory, who could hear the conversation going on and was laughing in the background.

"Now mind you keep that son of mine in order Malcolm," Margaret said, "I can hear him laughing, don't think that I can't!" she spoke up so that Cory could hear her better, but making Malcolm suddenly jerk the phone away from his ear.

...

Half an hour later, Malcolm and Cory managed to put the phone down.

"Aren't they terrible?" Cory said to Malcolm- "I swear they get worse every year!"

"Well, it _is_ entertaining, you can't deny," Malcolm said. He rubbed his ear. "I wish they would put regular comm-transmission ports in cadet quarters though, rather than these old-fashioned receivers- having something with that much noise in one's ear isn't healthy I'm sure!"

"Cheapskate Starfleet," was all Cory had to say.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer........ We all know it.

**Preparing the Way**

**Part Two**

**Excerpt from a letter from Ensign Malcolm Reed: CV-220: _Icharus_ to Cadet Janie Moss: Starfleet Academy, San Francisco**

_... I have never seen anything quite like this starship Janie- it's amazing. I'll admit, if you look at the material side of the ship, everything is incredibly functional and small. There are 2 crew to each quarter- the sole exception being that of the Captain's quarters, but that's only correct. I'm not sharing with Cory, but with an Ensign Julian LeFevre, which after so many years of putting up with Cory, is quite odd. He's tidier than Cory is though, but he does talk nineteen to the dozen- keeps trying to make me call him by his nickname- 'Volt' (as in Julian=Jules=Joules=electricity), but it's so daft and far-fetched that he isn't going to get me to succumb. When he isn't telling me about that, he rabbits on about his friend Harris. At least he doesn't talk about his work onboard- he's a nurse by trade, and I for one don't want to know about how the Sickbay works. He is blessedly silent when it comes to patients too, which is rather comforting- at least he has a sense of doctor-patient confidentiality- he gets to see everyone who comes into Sickbay, as we all need our check-up now we're onboard. I've had to give Doctor Curthoys an embarrassing list of allergies. _

_Anyway, as I was saying, when you look past the material, the starship is incredible, and they tell me that when we get the Warp 5 vessels up and running, they'll be even more so! The ship holds 52 personnel, although we only have 50 on board- 2 for guest quarters. The Armoury is quite something- very large, if you consider how much space is at a premium here. There are store cupboards- enough for a phase pistol for everyone on board, and spare power packs, and recharging stations, and even a shooting range and remote targets for practice! It is my job to plan a procedure and co-ordinate the timetables of everybody onboard so that they get a chance to practice their shooting with each type of weapon. I work with 4 other people here in the Armoury at various times depending on their shifts, and I have a feeling they all think I'm something of a stick-in-the-mud and a bit dull- loving my work too much, as Cory would say. I suspect it is because I don't chatter much when I'm on duty, unlike them. Except for our commanding officer, that is- Lieutenant-Commander Ramaswami who is on assignment here for 6 months while his regular starship which he serves on is having a major re-fit at Jupiter Station. I overheard that from Ensign Ryder telling Ensign Williams, both of whom have just graduated as I did. The other here is Lieutenant Yoshida, Lieutenant-Commander Ramaswami's SIC, but is as chatty as the other graduates here. He is very officious whenever our commanding officer is around though. He is a permanent fixture here, and he has been telling us what the ship does when it gets a new 'batch' of graduates. It seems that we will be spending a lot of time in the Sol System, and going to Vulcan and back so that everyone can become thoroughly well-versed in how a Starfleet vessel works, and what the life onboard is like. He rightly says that working in such close-quarters isn't for everyone, and so it is good for us to find out sooner rather than later so that, if necessary, we can find alternative posts to work on- on a station like Jupiter, or in diplomatic relations perhaps. _

_We actually do get to see how diplomatic relations work soon- we're on our way to Vulcan now to transport a small diplomatic party from Vulcan to Earth, and as the two of them will be staying on board, we will most likely get to meet them. I will admit only to you and Cory that I am enjoying myself. I must thank Admiral Hunter for this opportunity. _

_Please forgive the unstructured nature of this letter- when one has so much to say, it is hard to get it all down without sounding like one is gossiping. _

_With affection, _

_Malcolm_

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"So how are you finding working in Engineering, rather than on heavy demolitions?" Malcolm asked Cory over coffee in the Mess after their first shift. It was early morning, just as the Alpha shift crew were coming in for their breakfasts. Cory and Malcolm, as recent graduates, were both usually on the Beta-shift.

"Love it," Cory replied. "This is exactly what I got into Starfleet for. Oh, I knew that I would probably never get the opportunity to put heavy demos to use on a starship, but that's why I did engineering studies as well- and it's paid off!" He raised his coffee, wishing for a moment that it was a beer, but with his euphoria over finally being on a starship easily overcame that. They were both watching the stars sail past the windows which lined the Mess hall. Now they weren't sharing a room, and were based in different departments, they had barely seen each other since they had come on board.

"How did Janie take it when you told her that you were going to be based off-planet?" Cory asked Malcolm.

"I'd told her beforehand that it was likely that it was going to happen, courtesy of Admiral Hunter, and she asked me out anyway," Malcolm shrugged, then stopped mid-action as he realised what he'd just accidentally admitted to Cory.

Cory leaned over, catching what Malcolm had let out. "_She_ asked _you_ out?! Seriously Malcolm- get a spine for the ladies!!" but he laughed anyway. "At least we know who wears the trousers! _And_ at least she made the move though- I thought you two might tiptoe around each other forever."

"Your gift of exaggeration never ceases to amaze," Malcolm said dryly.

Cory smiled, and returned to watching the stars. "So how's the Armoury? Everything you expected and more?"

"It is very enjoyable, even with the gossiping that goes on when the Lieutenant-Commander isn't around."

"Methinks I hear a disapproving tone Malcolm- these are people you have to work with. Get to know them a bit before you make a judgement."

Malcolm frowned. "I'm not making a judgement, but we work with weapons- a misfiring due to not paying attention can cause a danger to life. The Armoury isn't a place for fun- it's a place of serious work. Fun is for off-duty."

Cory looked at Malcolm, then looked away, wondering exactly how to phrase his opinions. "I agree with you on principle Malcolm, but look at it this way- it's a difficult place to work in. You're in close-quarters to those people, in the same room with them all shift, unless you're lucky enough to get a stint on the Bridge or planet-side. If you get to know them, then you can begin to second-guess them, how they will react in a certain situation and stuff. The more you know how they'll react, the easier it will be to make a decision if you get into a situation that requires you to know what they'll do. If you get my long-winded drift there."

Malcolm pondered this. "I think I understand what you're getting at." They were both silent as Cory made a large yawn, reminding them that while it was technically the beginning of the day, they could both do with their beds.

Malcolm stood up, returning his mug to the cantine. He stopped as Cory came up beside him, also returning his mug. "It's funny you know. The way you tutor me in the ways of life- you arse around so much, but when you start telling me about a 'life lesson', you actually do have something worth listening to."

Cory slapped him on the back. "Thanks for sounding so surprised there Mally-boy. I may 'arse around', but that only means that I live life a bit more than you, so I learn a lot of things by doing it. Experience. You might want to try it one day." He winked at his friend as they left the room to go to their own quarters.

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Malcolm had to admit that being on the Beta-shift had its upside- it was quieter, being the main one, and not just in the Armoury, but all over the ship. Ensign Matthew Ryder had a vicious sense of humour, and almost everything he said seemed to come out as though he was mocking you in some way, whether he meant it or not, it was just the way he spoke. Malcolm was glad that he rarely saw him as he was on Alpha-shift. But he did have to live with Lieutenant Yoshida and Ensign Lara Williams talking amongst themselves. Still, they tended to leave him alone. Lieutenant Yoshida- Hiro- was a good sort, and Malcolm understood why he had been promoted to a Lieutenant, but the man didn't have a sense of decorum nor one of tactfulness, although he gave his superiors due deference, he was far too chummy with his subordinates in Malcolm's opinion. At that moment, Malcolm was observing an almost flirting between the two of them, despite the fact that Ensign Williams should have been taking her shift on the Bridge 3 minutes ago. If he had his own Armoury, he wouldn't find that at all acceptable. After 5 minutes, she did finally go, leaving the Lieutenant and Malcolm manning the Armoury together. There were a few minutes beautiful peace before Lieutenant Yoshida felt the need to try and converse with him.

"So Malcolm, how are you finding life in Starfleet, such as it's been so far?" he asked.

Malcolm suppressed a sigh. Even Cory knew that Malcolm wasn't overly talkative, and didn't waste time on small talk with people he barely knew- he realised that for this reason, Ensign Ryder had given him the nickname 'Our Resident Vulcan' which he had overheard him being called during a shift change.

"Fine Sir," he replied.

Hiro came over to him, not taking 'fine' for an answer. "Come on now Malcolm, you've barely said two words since you came on board." His brow furrowed in a concern that didn't look entirely sincere to Malcolm. "Are you having problems settling in?" He said in a patronizing tone leaving Malcolm using all his strength not to roll his eyes. Lieutenant Yoshida was clearly under the very incorrect impression that Malcolm hadn't settled well on board and needed some kind of mentor to help him out.

"No Sir, thank you. I'm quite fine."

The Lieutenant put his hands on both of Malcolm's shoulders, turning him around to face him directly, which made Malcolm instantly tense at the invasion of personal space. The Lieutenant's expression hadn't changed from the patronizingly concerned look. "No, really Malcolm, I'm here for you- we all are. You don't need to keep everything bottled up inside."

Malcolm lost control so far as to raise an eyebrow. Lieutenant Yoshida might be a 'people-person', but he clearly had no idea how people worked- he had Malcolm sized-up entirely wrong. Malcolm didn't want to correct his superior, not only because it felt wrong to speak so candidly to someone of higher rank, but mostly because he didn't want to engage him in conversation any longer than he already had. He needed an excuse to get away.

"Sir, permission to get some coffee? I'll get you some as well if you would like?"

Lieutenant Yoshida removed his hands from Malcolm and smiled. "There's a boy Malcolm- it's not perfect, but at least it's a start at being social! We will work on this more often." He turned back to his station after one more encouraging smile at Malcolm.

"Not bloody likely," Malcolm murmured to himself as he walked out of the Armoury.

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That night, Malcolm looked out of the window of the Observation Lounge. Cory had just left for bed, Engineering having been particularly gruelling today with him cleaning out the Jefferies Tubes and he was- and looked- exhausted. Malcolm stayed in the Obs Lounge just long enough to look out over the planet of Vulcan below them. The _Icharus_ was in a standard orbit whilst the two Vulcans going to the Vulcan Embassy on Earth got ready to come aboard. The shuttlepod with Captain Dawson and First Officer Commander Grimes had gone down to the planet several hours before to personally pick up the guests to transfer them to the ship for transport back to Earth.

Malcolm had never seen a Vulcan before, only in pictures, lessons, or films, but never in the flesh. He'd heard all sorts of stories, and it seemed that ever since the crew of the _Icharus_ had heard that their destination was to Vulcan, every story about the species had been aired and retold more times than anyone cared to remember. In the Mess Hall with Cory earlier in the day, they'd heard more of the same- 'they have no feelings, no emotions', 'they're robots really', 'blue blood and pointy ears', 'think themselves superior', were only a few of the snippets of conversations that they'd heard.

And now they were coming on board, and the crew would be able to see first hand what the Vulcans were like. One thing Malcolm had heard was that they liked their solitude and were a quiet species, and given this, he had the impression he might get on with Vulcans better than he would the average human. Not only that, but they probably actually wouldn't get to see the Vulcans much- if they really liked their peace and quiet, then they might stay in their quarters for as much of the journey back to Earth as possible.

As he watched, he saw the shuttlepod return and dock with the _Icharus_. He suddenly felt a childlike compulsion to go to the docking hatch to see the guests, but he easily repressed it, instead allowing himself to yawn and resign himself to returning to quarters for a rest, hoping that Julian wasn't awake and talking.

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The Vulcans had come on board and, as Malcolm had guessed, they had stayed almost completely to themselves with the exception of them having their first meal on board with the Captain, but after that, they stayed in voluntary confinement to their cabins, much to the disappointment of the crew who had wanted their first real view of aliens.

Malcolm had had to suffer the Armoury all day since their guests had come aboard with his fellow workers complaining how little they had seen. Ensign Ryder had gone overboard in his comparisons between Malcolm and the Vulcans to the point that it had become slightly vicious. But it never got any worse than that, although it didn't help with Malcolm trying feeling make the ship a home to him. He avoided Matthew even more so when their shifts coincided.

It had been a long day when Malcolm finally got off shift and, exhausted, avoided the Mess Hall where there would be several people either coming off or about to go on shift chatting away, and he just didn't feel the need to be sociable, or have to justify his lack of social behaviour to everyone else. Instead, he went to the Observation Lounge, which had quickly become his favourite part of the ship as it was small and offered little in the way of social opportunities which his shipmates loved so much, so was generally left alone, even by the recent graduates who wanted a little privacy to 'get to know each other better'.

He walked in through the door, leaving the room dark- preferring it that way- and stood at parade rest, with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. It was then that he realised there was someone else sitting on the sofa to his left. He looked over and then straightened his back rigidly when he realised it wasn't one of the crew, but one of the Vulcans. "Excuse me, I didn't realise anyone else was here. I shan't disturb you anymore," and he made to leave.

"You may stay, I am not disturbed," the Vulcan said, standing.

Malcolm hesitated, but not wanting to appear churlish or that he disliked the Vulcans in any way, he changed his mind and stayed, turning back to the viewport and standing in silence, the Vulcan doing the same.

Malcolm was surprised when the Vulcan turned to him and spoke after several long minutes of silence. "My name is Sovok."

Malcolm turned to him, raising his eyebrows. "I'm Malcolm... er- Ensign Reed."

Sovok nodded sagely, folding his hands into his robes as he did.

Malcolm wasn't sure, but this Vulcan seemed to not be bothered by humans as much as he had been told by his shipmates. The silence had fallen again, and as Sovok had introduced himself, Malcolm wasn't sure if he should say something else in return. He felt a growing discomfort- this really wasn't his forte with humans, let alone an alien from a diplomatic background. "How are you finding the _Icharus_?" he asked eventually.

Sovok didn't turn to Malcolm as he replied, but continued to gaze out of the viewport. "I have been in the presence of humans before. It is not unlike those occasions."

Malcolm once again didn't know what to say in response to that. Luckily for him, Sovok spoke up once again.

"What is the significance of the name 'Icharus'?"

Malcolm blinked, trying to recall his mythology- his mother had told him ancient Greek legends for bedtime stories when he was very young and he had loved them then, but he had all but forgotten them now. "I believe it is something to do with an ancient legend where a demi-god wished to fly, so the other gods fashioned for him some wings made from wax. He loved to fly, but one day flew too high, too close to the sun, and his wings melted and he fell to his death."

Malcolm looked at Sovok then, gauging his reaction. Everyone in Starfleet knew that the Vulcans thought that human endeavours into space were premature, and Malcolm had frequently wondered if the _Icharus_ had been given the name ironically, or if someone had actually no real idea what the meaning behind it was, just thinking it had sounded nice at the time.

Sovok surprised him when he replied. "Perhaps a Vulcan named the ship."

Malcolm frowned, not quite believing what he'd heard. If Sovok had been human, that would have been classified as a joke. Sovok looked at him, looking as if he realised what Malcolm was thinking, and added, "although maybe this ship is named so to prove to us that humans are ready to overturn the metaphor, rather than you being unready to fly." Sovok returned to his seat then, and Malcolm sat on the small sofa opposite, but both still looking out of the viewport.

"If you'd excuse my observation," Malcolm said after a while, "you don't seem to be bothered by humans as many Vulcans are."

"No, I am not," Sovok replied. Solaar, my companion, who I am aide to, would say that it is because I am very young."

"And you wouldn't agree?" Malcolm asked.

Sovok merely looked at him. "You are not like most humans. You are more Vulcan than the rest of your crew."

Malcolm nodded. Having endured much of the crew's ribbing about him being Vulcan-esque, he didn't find it so hard to imagine how he came across. Of course, coming from an actual Vulcan, it seemed more like a compliment, than the intended snide comment felt like when coming from a human.

Neither said anything again until Malcolm stood up, bade Sovok goodnight which Sovok replied to by inclining his head, and left. Halfway along the corridor to his quarters, an alarm blared out, making Malcolm jump a mile, and Captain Dawson's voice came over the comms on a ship-wide frequency. "Emergency in Engineering! Medical teams to Engineering- Sickbay on standby for casualties! All non-essential personnel are to stay in their quarters until further notice!"

The comm clicked off, and Malcolm's training kicked in over his adrenaline, and he ran towards his quarters, although all thoughts of sleep had left him now. He wondered if Cory was still in Engineering- there had been a series of minor problems all day, so much so that Cory hadn't been able to meet with Malcolm for lunch as usual, only for a quick coffee break instead. Cory hadn't seemed bothered by the problems in Engineering, so Malcolm was desperate for information, praying that nothing had severely gone wrong, and selfishly hoping that Cory wasn't in Engineering right now....

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An hour later, the ship-wide alert still on and non-essential crew still confined to quarters, Captain Andrew Dawson stood in Sickbay looking at a monitor that displayed a depressing array of information. Doctor Robert Curthoys was next to him, having delivered his verdict, both of them had identical grave expressions on their faces.

"And you're absolutely 100% positive that nothing can be done for them?" Captain Dawson asked his Chief Physician.

Doctor Curthoys shook his head, looking down at the PADD in his hand, mostly so that he didn't have to look the Captain in the eye again and see the careful expression that hid the true feelings of desperation there. "I'm sorry Captain, but no. I have gone through everything I can think of. The radiation poisoning was too high, and too fast- the effects are now irreversible, and they **are** all going to die."

Captain Dawson seemed to deflate just for a second, the masked features dropping to show a very genuine grief. He brought a hand to his face, covering his mouth, then rubbed his face, pushing the fingers back through the white buzz crop. He suddenly felt like an old man, and not the well-weathered Old Boy that his retired friends back home called him. He was the one who was about to have to sign away the lives of so many young men and women- practically children- and he felt like he and his ship had somehow betrayed them. He dropped his hand to his side, and nodded imperceptibly, schooling his features back to the way they should be- the omnipotent Captain, in charge of all, having the respect and trust of his cadets. Except, he reminded himself, that trust was now misplaced.

He left Sickbay and went to the Bridge, settling in his Chair. He reached over to the panel on the arm of the chair, and paused, wondering how to begin. He knew he had to tell everyone on board what had happened in Engineering, but he had to take a second to compose himself one last time.

He opened the ship-side comm link.

"To all hands, I'm very sorry to announce that an incident has occurred in Engineering. There have been some issues all day, and it has led to an explosion in the Warp Core, with a fatal radiation leak filtering out into Engineering. The emergency bulkheads are in place, so the ship is safe, but I'm afraid that everyone in Engineering has suffered the consequences of the radiation leak. As such, they have all been affected with radiation poisoning, which the Doctor says is now untreatable. They cannot leave Engineering." He paused before making his next statement.

"I'm afraid that everyone who was in Engineering is now going to die. As a final act, the brave crew of that brilliant department have contained the leak so that the _Icharus_ and everyone else on board will be saved, and we can get back to Earth safely. Were it not for these men and women keeping their heads in this time of great desperation, we would all be in peril. As such, we all owe our lives to these brave people:

Commander Annika Sung; Lieutenant Eric Ramsay; Ensign Elizabeth Zimmerman; Crewman George Brault; Ensign Cory Logan. Anyone wishing to speak to their friends in Engineering, make the request through to Doctor Curthoys in Sickbay, and we shall arrange a visual comm link. Captain out."

Captain Dawson sat back in his chair, wondering how that had gone down around the ship, a part of him wishing that there weren't any Vulcans on board to see this happening. He got up and went to his Ready Room to place a call through to Starfleet. From there, Starfleet would hopefully be able to find all of the families of the affected crew in time so that they could say some final words to their loved ones.

This wasn't what space travel was meant to be about.

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Malcolm was in shock. He couldn't express it- he was absolutely frozen. He had managed to make his way to Sickbay as soon as he heard Cory's name being spoken, but he had sat on a biobed under the Doctor's orders to wait for a comm link to be set up.

There were several other people there- a couple for each ensign, as the Engineering crowd were a well-loved selection of people, and many had turned up for Commander Sung and Lieutenant Ramsay both of whom knew this ship inside and out. There was a low hum of background noise in Sickbay with people trying to work out what on earth might have gone wrong in Engineering to cause a radiation leak of such intensity, but Malcolm barely registered the snippets of conversations around him. He had realised that he was about to lose his best friend- his brother- the only person apart from Maddy whom he'd really been able to get to know and who had come to know him in return. He thought of Janie, and it seemed to him that he could let her be the same to him, but at that moment, only Cory really knew him and accepted him for who he was, and there he was dying in Engineering.

A cold pressure and a hiss in the side of his neck made him turn to see Doctor Curthoys looking at him sympathetically. "It's for the shock," he said, gesturing to the hypospray that he had injected into Malcolm's neck. Malcolm nodded mutely, saying nothing, but clutching the side of the biobed for support.

A number of consoles had been set up so that the people in Engineering could speak to their friends and family at the same time. Doctor Curthoys gestured Malcolm towards the console in his tiny, cramped office so that he could speak to Cory. The Doctor closed the door behind him to give Malcolm some privacy, and Malcolm turned to the screen to see the face of Cory staring back at him.

Neither knew what to say.

"I've just spoken to the folks back home," Cory said, putting a light tone on, but not entirely succeeding. "Starfleet managed to find them quickly- it's tennis season after all, so they're glued to Wimbledon. It's amazing that they hadn't unplugged the phone- you know what they're like when the tennis is on!" He cracked a grin, although it was a far cry from the legendary confidence-inspiring Cory-grin that had him score with the ladies throughout his time at the Academy. Malcolm swallowed, trying to match the smile and the tone of Cory's voice, trying to make jokes to the end. His mouth had gone dry though, and the lump in his throat had stopped his ability to speak.

Cory swallowed himself, his eyes tightening. "Look after them, won't you?" he asked.

"Of course," Malcolm croaked out.

"I don't know how much time we have really," Cory continued, his expression now uncharacteristically somber. "We've had a talk down here, the five of us, and the Captain, and the Doctor over the comm. We know we're all going to die, and that it's going to be very long and painful. We've got painkillers from the medkit down here, but none of us want to prolong the inevitable- the waiting will kill us before the radiation does, I reckon. So the Cap's gonna open Engineering out to space to purge everything and to save us from a very long death. None of us want that. The long death, that is."

Malcolm was shocked- he couldn't even find his voice to make a counter-argument. He knew that Cory was going to die, but he didn't want the plug to be pulled, as it were on his friend- _brother_. He realised he was terrified, and when he looked directly at Cory through the monitor, he could see the same expression there.

There was a knock on the door to the Doctor's office, and it opened, allowing the Captain inside.

"Has Ensign Logan told you of the plan for Engineering?" he asked.

Malcolm nodded. "Yes sir."

"Two minutes' time, Ensigns." he said, and left the office again.

Malcolm turned back to Cory. "Two minutes," he said.

Cory nodded. "Just as well really. Take care of yourself, and remember everything I've taught you. Enjoy life. I have, and I have no regrets. I'm glad I've had you for a brother Mal."

Malcolm actually felt a tear fall, and he swiped at it, putting a smile on instead for Cory's benefit. "I'll miss you. I'm grateful that I dropped that plate in the Mess all those years ago that made you practically adopt me!" It was a funny memory for the two of them, and they both smiled. "God bless, Cory."

"Night Malcolm. See you 'round sometime," and he winked, turning off the console at his end.

The Starfleet logo appeared on the screen at Malcolm's end, and he stared at it, another tear falling, mouth slightly open in shock.

He left the office and went into the main room of Sickbay where everyone had fallen quiet, all having ended their conversations with their friends. The Captain's voice came over the comm, ship-wide again.

"To the crew in Engineering; on behalf of everyone onboard, I thank you with deepest gratitude for the work you have done to assure everyone's safety. My regret is that it had so high a price. Godspeed."

It was short, but the emotion and feeling in those few words mirrored the crew's for the five people in Engineering.

The ship suddenly had a deathly hush, as if everyone was trying to hear the purging of Engineering and the last few breaths of those trapped inside, although clearly impossible.

It wasn't until Captain Dawson's voice returned that everyone realised the deed had been done- "Godspeed," he repeated quietly.

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Back on Earth, the news of the the accident on the _Icharus_ had received global news coverage, and the press were waiting for the shuttles carrying the crew of the ship back to spacedock. Security forces were pushing back the reporters and the crowd when the entire crew from the Captain to the Crewmen who had assembled together when they got off their shuttles so that they could make a united front. The noise was deafening when Captain Dawson led his crew to an assembly hall where they could be received by their friends and families and taken home to recuperate. Sovok and Solaar had left in their own shuttle to be taken directly to the Vulcan Embassy, thus bypassing all of the reporters.

The hall was quiet, especially when the doors closed behind the crew to shut out the public outside. As members of the _Icharus_ saw their families, they peeled off to go to them, but were called back by Captain Dawson.

"Before you all go," he began, "I want to thank you for your consideration during this hard time. Starfleet have already begun a full-scale investigation as to what happened in Engineering that day, and I will personally let you know what it is they find. Thank you for serving, and I will understand if you no longer wish to serve on board a starship. You all have my highest recommendations for whichever post you serve on next. You're all on leave until your next assignments." He nodded, and then left the room with his senior staff- minus Commander Sung.

Malcolm wasn't sure what to do with himself until Mrs. Logan appeared in front of him, enveloping him into a hug, which he melted into. He held on to his best friend's mother for dear life, shoulders shaking as he began to properly cry for the first time. Mr. Logan was there too, with a firm hand on Malcolm's shoulder, all of them silent together, mourning together.

The memorial service had been arranged by Starfleet beforehand so that the crew of the _Icharus_ and their families, and the families of the dead, could attend it before they left for wherever they called home.

It rained that day in San Francisco.

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A month later, and the survivors of the _Icharus_, as the world media had dubbed them, had their new assignments, most of them not wanting to return to a ship, at least for now.

All of them had received the promised message from Captain Dawson- it was a complete accident, the radiation leak in Engineering, which brought little comfort to those left behind, except that no one was to blame, although having a scapegoat might have made the grief a little bit easier. It was just an old ship which needed an overhaul, and the only thing Starfleet could do about it was to decommission the _Icharus_, never to fly again.

Malcolm, under the recommendation of the Starfleet counsellor which all of the crew had been required to visit, was given a quiet posting on Jupiter Station- a desk job in the Armoury. It had responsibility, but very little contact with people who would ask him constantly what it was like to be on the _Icharus_ that voyage, and that suited Malcolm fine. He didn't really want to leave Margaret and Patrick Logan, but he was in better contact with them than he was his own parents, whom he hadn't seen since he returned, only messaged briefly.

Malcolm made his way to the ship that was going to be taking him to Jupiter Station, his duffel flung over his shoulder. It was a cold day again, and he was wearing the deep blue scarf that Margaret had knitted for him- years ago, it seemed. She had kissed him goodbye, tears in her eyes at the spacedock terminal- she and Patrick had looked after him constantly in the last month, and it had only reinforced the ties that he was another son to them.

"Take care of yourself, son," Patrick said to him before Malcolm left, unknowingly duplicating the words Cory had spoken to him in their last moments.

Malcolm suddenly wondered if his father had been right all along, and that Starfleet had actually been a totally wrong move to make, but as he sat down inside the shuttle, oblivious to the stares and whispers of the other passengers around him nudging each other, he realised that, like Cory, he had no regrets- he didn't regret making friends with Cory, he didn't regret joining Starfleet, and he didn't regret the position he was in now. He just wished it didn't hurt so much, and he certainly wouldn't be getting close to anyone for a good long while. He'd had to break it off with Janie- he winced at that. That _was_ one regret he had, and he hated himself for doing it, but she had been her usual wonderful self, and had understood entirely, although she had cried a lot. He realised he loved her, but that he just couldn't be near anyone right now. He hoped that he could return to her one day.

But until then, Jupiter Station lay ahead, and his future unknown to him.


End file.
